So, I normally write Supernatural stories. I have recently found the Musketeers and I have fallen in love! Supernatural will always be my first love, but this show is a very close second. This is my first Musketeer story and I am beyond nervous. I haven't been aquainted with these characters for very long so please forgive me if I don't quite catch their personalities. I really love these guys, but in this first chapter it may not seem like I do. So, I'll let you read and hopefully you'll let me know what you think.

Cindy

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters-I am only borrowing them for a short time.

Chapter 1

Athos was a little more than drunk when he turned the corner on the way to his apartments and saw them. He recoiled back as if to avoid the venom of a striking snake, his heart hammering in his chest as he saw d'Artagnan bow and kiss the hand of the woman who he, Athos, most loved, and hated in this world. He sank back into the shadows, his eyes glued to the scene before him. He drew in a quick breath when the woman reached up and gently cupped d'Artagnan's cheek before she turned and climbed into the carriage that awaited her. His eyes narrowed as he watched d'Artagnan's gaze follow the carriage as it rolled away, the young man only turning away when the carriage was out of sight. d'Artagnan held a satchel in his hand that Athos surmised held several coins and his blood boiled at the implication. He waited until the Gascon was out of sight before he stepped from the shadows and slowly made his way to his rooms. Later he knew that all of his brothers would convene at his place and then he would make the young man, who had so easily found his way into their tight knit group, tell him everything about his dealings with the woman who was his wife.

M

Aramis knew something was up the second he and Porthos entered Athos' apartment. The man was drunk, if the empty wine bottles strewn across the table were any indication. Not that that was any big surprise, but this was different. He had barely acknowledged his friends when they had entered, his cold eyes moving quickly back to the door once it had shut. Aramis and Porthos shared a confused look before Porthos stepped forward and gazed down at his friend.

"Uh, Athos…is there something wrong?" the big man asked nervously before once again glancing over at Aramis.

"Why would anything be wrong?" Athos drawled as he lifted an eyebrow and looked up at the man before him.

"You tell us," Aramis said as he stepped up next to Porthos. "You look like you have murder in your eyes."

Athos shrugged as he turned his attention once more to the door. "Where is the whelp?" he asked without removing his gaze from the door.

"You mean d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked curiously. "'e's not too far behind us. 'e…"

"He is here," Athos said before standing, all the while watching the door.

Aramis and Porthos shared another look, but shrugged when they heard the footfalls that announced their little brother's ascent up the stairs. They turned as the door opened and smiled when d'Artagnan slipped into the room, a shy smile spreading across his face as he saw his friends waiting for him. The smile slipped as he met Athos' eyes and the young man took an unconscious step back toward the still open door.

"Athos…what is wrong? W-Why are you looking at me like that?" the Gascon asked softly as he quickly glanced at Aramis and Porthos, both of whom merely shrugged their ignorance to what was going through their leader's mind.

"Nothing is wrong, d'Artagnan. Come in and sit down…we have much to discuss," the elder Musketeer said as he sank once more into the chair he had been sitting on when Aramis and Porthos had arrived.

d'Artagnan swallowed nervously then softly shut the door. He took the chair near the fireplace, his eyes warily watching his mentor as the man followed his every move. "What do you wish to talk about?" he asked when he could take the silence no longer.

Athos tilted his head, any hint of drunkenness gone as he stared intently at the squirming young man. "How long?" he asked, anger building in him when d'Artagnan furrowed his brow in confusion.

"How long what?" the Gascon asked softly.

Athos leaned forward, blue eyes intense as he stared his young friend down. "How long since you started sleeping with my wife?"

d'Artagnan sucked in a startled breath, his eyes widening at the older man's words. "What? Athos, I do not know what you are talking about," he cried breathlessly.

"My wife…Anne…the woman I saw you with earlier. How long have you been sleeping with her?" Athos growled low his throat.

The other two men, their eyes darting from one friend to the other, shuffled uncomfortably where they stood, until finally Aramis stepped forward when it became apparent that the younger of the two was too shocked to speak. "You have a wife?" he asked of his friend.

"Stay out of this," Athos drawled as he glanced over at his friends. "This is between the boy and myself," he added, his gaze turning cold as it returned to the shaking form of d'Artagnan. "Speak, boy…tell me how long!"

"Athos…that woman, Milady De Winter, she…"

"She is my wife! My dead wife come back from the grave! I told you about her! I trusted you and you…you betrayed me!" Athos bellowed as he came up off the chair, knocking it to the floor with a heavy crash.

d'Artagnan was on his feet as well, the young man stumbling back, away from the rage he saw in his mentor's eyes. He shifted his gaze to the other two men in the room, but they could only stare back in shock. He turned back to Athos and held his hand out before him as the man took a step toward him. "No…Athos, no…I did not betray you! I did not know! It happened before I met you…the woman at the inn. Please, Athos, I did not know who she was! You have to believe me!" he cried, dark eyes pleading with his friend to understand.

"So, you have been sleeping with her since before we met…"

"Only that one time, Athos…never since, I swear!"

"I do not believe you. You are a liar! I saw the satchel in your hand…what was she paying you for? Are you spying for her?" Athos asked as he came around the table, face red with rage.

d'artagnan took a step toward his friend, the young man needing to get through to the older man. Porthos took a step forward as well, his eyes moving from one musketeer to the next. "Uh, d'Artagnan, it may be better if you kept your distance," he said warily.

Athos jerked his head around and glared at his two friends. "I said to stay out of this! Back away, Porthos!" he hissed before turning his sights back onto d'Artagnan. "Is any of what you have told us true? Or is it all a lie?"

d'Artagnan straightened, his eyes shining at the accusation. How could Athos think that about him after everything they had been through together? He shook his head as he stared at his friend. "I have never lied to you, Athos," he whispered. "I have never lied to any of you," he added as he glanced over at the other two men.

"You took money from her. I saw it! Is she the one who financed your entrance in the contest as well? What is her plan? How much has she paid you to betray us?!" Athos seethed.

"Athos…"

"How long have you been working with her, d'Artagnan? Did you kill that man at the inn for her? Is that when it started, or was it earlier?"

"No! I did not kill that man! I met her at the inn…she framed me!"

"And yet you still meet with her?" Aramis asked from across the room.

"She…she is very persuasive," d'Artagnan softly said, his sad eyes turning to the medic. "But, I do not trust her…there is something about her…"

"You took money from her just this evening!" Athos bellowed.

"Not money! A gift! Just a gift, for winning the contest!" d'Artagnan looked at each of his friends, beseeching them to believe him. His heart sank when he saw the doubt in their eyes. "Please…"

"Was your father a part of the plan? Was his death a part of the plan, or was that just an unfortunate accident? Does she have you so trapped in her web that you would allow your own father to be killed just so she can destroy me?" Athos asked, his voice low, yet menacing.

d'Artagnan stumbled back as if struck. "No…" d'Artagnan whispered, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, eyes moving to each of his friends, begging them to understand, to not believe what Athos was implying. When he still saw doubt, he turned back to his mentor, his hand dropping to his side.

"You cannot believe that, Athos. You cannot," he softly said.

"I do not know what to believe anymore. I thought you were our friend…our brother…but, then I see you with her and now…"

"You think that I would kill my own father? That I would allow him to die? For her?" d'Artagnan cried. "I helped save you, Athos! Why would I do that? I have risked my life for you…for all of you! How can you even begin to doubt my loyalty to you?"

"Greed and lust will make men do things that they never imagined they would be able to do," Athos calmly stated. "That woman is an enchantress. She had me fooled once, but never again."

"Athos, I have never done anything for her…nothing! I met her at that inn. We…we spent one night together and then…you know the rest. It was not until just recently that she showed herself again. I've seen her only a few more times since meeting you. You were right about one thing…she did give me the money needed for the contest, but I told her I would pay her back when I won. I considered it a loan."

Athos considered the young man before him, his heart yearning for what he had said to be the truth, but his head, still influenced by alcohol, unwilling to listen to what his heart was saying. He shook his head, confused as to what he should do. He knew what he saw, but the words d'Artagnan spoke, the look in his eyes, told him that maybe he was wrong. He closed his eyes, seeing the young man and his wife together in his mind and his knees went weak. He grasped the table then opened his eyes and looked at the pale face before him.

"I want to believe you, but I have been betrayed before by the very woman you now align yourself with. I cannot trust you now…I have too much to lose if I do…we all do," he finally said, his hand gesturing to his two friends who stood numbly watching him.

d'Artagnan once again turned to Aramis and Porthos, praying that he would find some sort of support there. "Aramis? Porthos? Please, you cannot believe that I would betray you," he pleaded.

Porthos dropped his eyes, unable to speak through the shock of the moment. He loved this boy like a brother and had never seen anything in him that would indicate he could be anything other than how he saw him, but he had known Athos longer and there was just enough possibility there to make him doubt the young man now. He flinched slightly when Aramis finally did respond. "I do not know what to believe, d'Artagnan. I have trusted you with my life, with my brother's lives, but I trust Athos more. I do not know who this woman is, but I believe in Athos and…I…"

"Just stop…you have said enough," d'Artagnan softly said. "I thought I had found a family to replace the one I had lost, but it was not meant to be. I guess it was naïve of me to think that I could ever fit in here…that I had found kindred spirits in the three of you. I will leave and you will never have to see me again. I resign my commission…you can tell the captain." The young man dropped the cloak from his back then slowly removed the pauldron from his shoulder. He held it out before him then dropped it to the floor before turning to take his leave. His hand was on the door knob when Athos' voice called out.

"Stop…you are not going anywhere."

d'Artagnan turned, dark eyes sparking with hurt and anger. "I am leaving! You all have made it perfectly clear what you really think of me! That you could believe, even for one second, that I would kill, or allow my father to be killed? That I would betray you? There is nothing left to do but for me to leave!" he shouted.

Athos moved forward, a small sliver of doubt piercing his troubled mind. "I said you are staying!" he hissed.

d'Artagnan shot toward him, his hands ripping open his jacket and shirt until his chest was bared for the man before him. "Then kill me!" he cried, tears welling in his eyes, but the young man refused to let them fall. "Run me through or let me be…I do not care which one. My life is forfeit now anyway…what do I have to live for? My father is dead, my farm is gone, Constance made her choice and now you have all made yours. Kill me or let me go."

Athos shook with the rage and pain that filled him. What if he was wrong? What if the young Gascon was stronger than he gave him credit for? Could it be possible for the lad to withstand his temptress wife when he had been unable to? He thought that maybe he was, but words had been spoken that could not be taken back. He stepped back and dropped his eyes. "Go," he whispered as he reached for the half empty bottle of wine on the table.

d'Artagnan nodded and moved to the door once more. He stopped at the door and reached into the pocket of his jacket. Pulling his hand out, Athos could see the satchel held there. d'Artagnan tossed the satchel to the floor where it landed atop his discarded cloak. He dropped his eyes and turned to the door, opening it slowly, hands trembling as he did so.

"d'Artagnan…"

"Leave me be, Porthos…please," the heart broken young man said as he slipped out the door, leaving a void behind that felt too big to ever be filled again.

M

The three men watched the door as it clicked shut, listened as their brother descended the stairs. Porthos made a move toward the door, his heart aching as he felt the loss of their youngest. He stopped when he reached it though, the large man unable to open it to follow. The pain in d'Artagnan's eyes, the betrayal he saw in their depths…how could he even think of going after him now? What right did he have? What right did any of them have? He had stood there, numb with shock, while listening to Athos' accusations and he had said nothing. Aramis had said nothing, except to question the Gascon. He turned and looked at his friends and shook his head. Aramis swallowed against the dryness of his throat then stepped to where d'Artagnan had dropped his cloak. He knelt down and reached for the satchel that lay in the middle of the cloak. Opening it, he looked inside and sighed. He dumped the contents into his hand and looked up at Athos.

"Trinkets…and a small bunch of flowers," the medic said.

Athos brushed a hand over his face and let out a long, shaky breath. "Forget-me-nots," he whispered, the color draining from his face.

Porthos moved forward, dark eyes moving from what Aramis held in his hand to Athos. "What do the flowers mean, Athos?" he asked.

Athos looked at both of his brothers and shook his head. "It means that she has staked her claim to him. It means that she has only wicked intentions for him," he answered. "I believe I have made a terrible mistake," he added as he dropped his head in shame.

So, yeah. I did that. Please don't hate me. And please let me know what you think. I will try to get another chapter done as quickly as possible, but that all depends on how busy work is. Thanks for reading!